


No End of Romance

by sofonisba_found



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Curses, Emotional Baggage, Fae & Fairies, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, POV Derek Hale, Romance, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofonisba_found/pseuds/sofonisba_found
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek was used to people wanting to fuck him.</p><p>He wasn't quite so used to everyone in town except Stiles wanting to give him flowers, but that's just what happens sometimes when you manage to piss off a fae by forgetting them after a one night stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No End of Romance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swing Set in December (swing_set13)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swing_set13/gifts).



> Jen keeps asking for fics that I then feel compelled to write. She is a filthy, filthy, fic enabler. 
> 
> In any case, comments and constructive criticism welcome as always, and I hope everyone enjoys! 
> 
> Unbeta'd

Derek was used to people wanting to fuck him. He knew that he was practically the epitome of the classic ‘tall dark and handsome’ cliché, and that everywhere he went the scent of arousal would soon begin to emanate from every person with even the slightest passing attraction to men. He knew what they wanted to do to him, that the pictured him every which way; on his knees, on top of them, on his back with his knees pulled up and back toward his chest, open and wanton, taking all they could give, or gripping their hair tight as he shot his load down their throats. And being a young, healthy guy with all parts in good working order, sometimes he gave the people want they wanted. A few minutes, or sometimes even a couple hours access to his body, a mutual exchange of orgasms, and that was all. 

Nobody ever got anything more than that. Nobody, from his first days looking like a lost little lamb to right before he came back to Beacon Hills got to say that he was their boyfriend, or their lover, or anything like that just because bodily fluids had been shared or genitalia had been inserted by or in him. His body he could share, but he’d be damned if he was going to allow anyone to get close enough to hurt him again. 

And there was also the fact that no one much wanted anything more from him than what his body and face could provide. He was relatively sure that that was all that he was capable of giving anyway. One time after a hookup, he heard from across the room over the pounding of the base his most recent ‘dance partner’ say as much to her friend. That it was _good,_ and that up close his body and face were even more insane ‘Claire you would not believe his _cheekbones’,_ but that overall it was like having sex with some kind of super advanced sex dummy instead of a real person, even an asshole. 

And Derek knew that he should have felt offended, that he should take in that he was losing the ability to connect with anyone in any capacity outside of what was left of his family, even the simple and fleeting connection of being in bed together with a stranger. But instead he felt closer to glad than anything else. 

It was better that he had become someone impossible to care about in any regards past the superficial. Better that no one had any interest in him past the physical. Because he sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone any closer than that to him ever again. 

So Derek continued picking up the occasional girl or guy, giving them what they wanted and sending them on their way to find whatever else they were looking for. And any pangs of loneliness that he felt when he was alone again were quickly and unceremoniously squashed. 

At least until he went back to Beacon Hills. All the murder and mayhem going around was enough cause to put any urge to scratch his sexual itch was pretty firmly placed on the backburner due his desire to remain among the living. 

And to keep some idiot teenagers breathing as well. The strength of that urge was actually more than a little surprising for him, but he didn’t feel the need to advertise that fact. No matter that in his mind he could picture in crystal clarity every single instance of putting himself between danger, and one teen in particular’s fragile human body. 

The reemergence of Kate had been more than enough of a reminder that to everyone else he was little more than a body to be used, whether it be for sex, as a pawn for destruction, or as a not completely wanted protector. 

It didn’t matter if he cared about anyone. Even if someone managed to worm their way into his thoughts with their stupid bravery and loyalty, and even stupider sense of humor. It made the loneliness a little harder to push aside sometimes, that was all. And the urge to find someone once again, to let himself forget that loneliness for at least a few minutes began to slowly but surely rise up again. 

So after a little shy of two years back in town, after the Kanima, and Gerard Argent, Peter back from the dead, Jackson skipping town like the louse he was, running off to some ritzy New England prep school that his parents threw money at to get him enrolled, the drawn out yet surprisingly anticlimactic resolution to the whole Alpha Pack situation, a surprisingly comfortable alliance between his and Scott’s pack such as it was that resulted in socializing without an omnipresent danger surrounding them, all the while longing more and more for something he couldn’t and shouldn’t have, Derek finally gave in to his body’s urges and went to a mixed singles bar two towns over, not wanting to risk running into certain acquaintances who he know possessed fake IDs, to pick someone up for the night. 

He was expecting more of the same of what he experienced in New York. Some groping in the back, maybe a quick excursion to his hookup’s apartment where he most definitely would not be staying the night. 

What he was not expecting was to have the guy he had just jacked off to follow him to a gas station afterwards, the scent of his cologne more offensive in what passed for clear night air, even with the tinge of gasoline, than when surrounded by the background scents of seat, booze and arousal. Derek didn’t know how he had gotten there as his car was the only one in the lot save what was obviously the night clerk’s junker. But there he was, like he had appeared out of thin air while Derek was inside paying for his gas, leaning up against the Camaro making an expression that was somehow a bizarre cross between cow eyes and calculating at him in the parking lot. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Derek asked, his hackles raised, alert and scenting the air for the tell tale whiff of gun powder, wolfsbane, and malice that came with hunters. 

“You left so quickly. We hardly got to know each other at all,” the guy, he never even told Derek his _name_ , what the hell was he even doing there, said. 

“I know you as much as I want to. Now get your ass off my car before you get to know what I’m like when I run out of patience. Off.” 

The guy from the bar smiled, completely unintimidated by neither Derek’s words nor the growl he let creep into his voice. 

“But I do want to more about you. At least I did. Now I’ve pretty much come to terms, but I have been thinking about you for a good long while,” his hookup said with a smile. 

Derek extended his senses as far as he could while still maintaining focus on the man as he nonchalantly rose from his partial perch on the Camaro and began to walk towards him. His scent seemed to have shifted, more sweet and cloying than even a moment ago, and to something that was unnatural but not artificial like a man made scent. 

“What are you talking about? Who the hell are you?” Derek asked, letting the fangs and claws emerge. He had a sinking feeling that revealing his wolf nature was the least of his concerns at the moment. 

“You really don’t remember me at all. I’d have thought that taking me up against a floor length mirror in a club on New Year’s eve would have left more of an impression, even if it was a few New Years ago. ” 

Derek remembered the floor length mirror as it was something of an oddity to have in a men’s restroom, but he wasn’t an authority on NYC club appropriate interior design so what did he care? He remembered fucking someone up against it, the slide and catch and squeak of their body against the silvered surface, but that was it. 

He rarely remembered the faces of his liaisons. 

What he did usually remember was scent, but all he could recall from that encounter was the harsh chemical smell of cologne. 

The same cologne that had now been replaced by something akin to burnt sugar and crushed pine needles, clogging his senses and making his head ache. 

“I’ll admit, against both my better judgment and nature I harbored something of a romantic wistfulness for you for some time. So imagine my great joy to find that I was not the only one who had migrated west. If nothing else have a go at your admittedly lovely body again. And more importantly to see whether you had been worth even a second thought from me.” He was now right in front of Derek, his smell making him want to retch, his hand on Derek’s face, _why couldn’t Derek stop this man from touching him?_

“I even made sure to use the same glamour as I did back then, to see if you would recognize the face. But no, not an ounce of romance in your soul,” the man said, his face becoming indistinct, almost as if a real life soft mosaic as used to obscure identities on television had been placed over it. 

“Why should I…why-” Derek, unsure what exactly he was protesting, tried speak through a numb mouth, immobilized in a way reminiscent of the Kanima, but still not quite the same. This wasn’t physical like the toxin, this was a _compulsion._

“So while I have come to the realization that you are ultimately quite unworthy of me, my further, hmm, research, has lead me to pity you just the _tiniest_ bit. As much as I am capable, which isn’t much but still a trick in and of itself. ” The creature, as he no longer fit even the loosest definition of a man, leaned in close, all but breathing into Derek’s slack mouth. “Wanting love, yearning for it and being constantly bereft of it…why I just flirted with the notion for myself and found it a quite obnoxious experience. I couldn’t stand to be like that all the time. Though your commitment to self denial is at the very least a thing to behold.” 

“What…what are…” Derek felt his awareness of everything around him slip even further away as the creature kissed him, or what passed for a kiss when it no longer possessed anything that could strictly be called a mouth. It’s voice seemed to originate from no specific source any longer, instead it was now like Derek’s own unwanted personal surround sound state of the art stereo system as it spoke. 

“But because you were able to, through no effort or intent of your own, inspire something new in me even for a relatively fleeting time, I’ve decided to give you a gift. _What you lacked you will now have in abundance_. Though of course as I wasn’t really all that pleased with what you gave me, we’ll see how well you like what I gave you.” 

Something about the way the creature spoke this time sent a pulse of…something through Derek’s body, tingling and not quite pain, not quite heat, not quite anything definable. He felt his legs giving out from under him, his vision going black. As he crumpled to the ground he was only vaguely aware of the feel of the asphalt beneath him and the parting words of the creature; 

“Of course my ability to care whether you like it or not only actually goes so far…but I’m still feeling tender enough toward you now to give you an out. _If you can find it true without my generosity all amends are made._ Have fun with that.” 

And that was all Derek could remember until morning, when the birdsong and the sun glinting off his hubcaps right into his eyes woke him up. 

***** 

He got up, the stiffness of having been unconscious for hours on the ground fading quickly, so that by the time he was brushing off his pants the aches had disappeared as if they had never been. He took stock of his surroundings. Nothing smelled amiss. Just trees and concrete, a random squirrel, fuel mixed with the faint scent of marijuana coming from the obviously not very attentive clerk’s car. He still had everything on him, keys, wallet, sunglasses, and in addition there was also nothing that hadn’t been there before. 

He got into his car and drove away, still tense and unsure of what had happened, but the thought of returning to his own territory was the only thing that he was able to focus on with any degree of clarity. Soon he would be home, showering of the stink of the club and gasoline at the loft while the faint scent of pack surrounded him, surrounded the entire town to at least some degree at this point, before seeking out Deaton or Stiles…Stiles definitely Stiles. If he was going to awkwardly ask someone for help he might as well choose confusing and ill defined relationship and emotions over cryptic smugness. Then they could get to work and see if they couldn’t figure what had happened at that gas station, and whether or not it actually posed a threat to the Derek and/or the pack. 

He drove with the windows down, hoping that the moving air would help clear his head a little more. He was almost back at the loft when he got stuck behind a summer school bus, being forced to stop and go at its pace as it picked up kids for summer school, or day camp, or something that Derek would not be giving anything close to a damn about if it wasn’t adding about fifteen minutes onto his travel time. 

At a stop that had over a half dozen kids being picked up he noticed that pretty much every parent that didn’t have their attention focused solely on their little darlings were looking at him. Not that he wasn’t used to getting looks, even from soccer moms and stay at home dads, but there was something…different about their gazes from what he was normally on the receiving end of. The bus finally got going as a handful of the parents waved at him, almost shyly. 

Derek didn’t wave back. 

Finally he arrived at his loft, stripping off his clothes as he made his way to the bathroom, modesty never one of his priorities. He passed by Isaac sleeping on the couch as he frequently did. Derek was more than happy that Isaac considered his loft a safe and inviting haven, for while his state appointed guardians weren’t bad sorts by any measure, they had four other foster children much younger than Isaac that took up the majority of time and attention. 

And even if they had all the time in the world to dote on Isaac though, it was only right that he should want to be around pack. 

Derek reached the bathroom and got into the shower, being thorough in washing off the grime and residue of every part of the evening, both mundane and bizarre. He dried himself off and after a quick application of hair gel was walking back out into the loft, a towel wrapped around his waist a courtesy to the still slightly human in sensibilities Isaac in case the running water had woken his Beta up. 

While he had considered the possibility of Isaac now being awake, Isaac making pancakes and bacon was not something he had really expected to see. 

Even less expected was the obviously stolen from their neighbor two doors down daisies haphazardly placed in an old soda bottle retrieved from the recycling bin and placed on the kitchen table. 

“Any reason for this sudden foray into adventures in breakfast food?” Derek asked snagging some pancakes and bacon from the platter of already prepared food. “I seem to recall you saying you hated to cook.” Derek grabbed the maple syrup from the counter and proceeded to pour it over his entire plate. When he was younger he had been adamant that his bacon never touch the sweet syrup, but after hearing Stiles bitch about how he was missing the true breakfast experience he had tried it and enjoyed it, not that he told Stiles that. 

“Yeah, well, I just thought…I should do something nice for you,” Isaac said, still turned and slightly bent over the stove top. Derek paused in mid chew. Not that Isaac hadn’t become more comfortable around Derek, having decided that Scott was his friend but Derek was his Alpha, but something seemed…off. He subtly tried to get a read on Isaac’s scent through all of the food smells and something was different. A feeling rather than a change in his being like sickness, and though Derek could swear he should have at least some second hand familiarity with it, he couldn’t quite place what it was. It made him feel slightly on edge again, reminding him that though everything seemed normal for the most part, he still had no real idea what had been done to him the night before. He horridly finished eating his breakfast before bolting to his room to get changed quickly before making a beeline for the front door. 

“Do you have to go? I thought that maybe it would be cool to spend some time together, maybe go for a walk…?” Isaac asked, cooking finished but his head still ducked, his eyes evading Derek’s. Isaac hadn’t been hesitant like this for ages, and the apparent regression startled and worried Derek. But again there was something _different_. This wasn’t like raw and desperate fear Isaac had had at his core when Derek first turned him. Derek still didn’t know what it was but it wasn’t that. 

“I can gather everyone for another training session for out in the woods later today if you feel you need some more pack time,” Derek said pausing in the doorway, hoping it was just something as simple as needing some emotional support. 

If anyone knew what the absence of such could do it was Derek. 

“Well actually I meant just us?” Isaac asked finally looking up, his eyes as large as Derek had ever seen them, a faint blush on his cheeks. 

“Maybe…maybe later,” Derek hedged before hurrying out the door. 

Derek ran everything the creature had said through his head, as a small inkling of the nature of what had been done began to take form. 

***** 

Derek tested his theory by not going directly to Stiles’ house, instead stopping by one of the better coffee shops that dotted downtown Beacon Hills. If nothing else he’d get some coffee for himself and extra bribe for Stiles’ to make him more inclined to assist Derek. 

The reactions of the other patrons as he waited on line were certainly different from what he normally received. Usually it was pretty solidly split between people, usually but not always in the senior citizens bracket, looking at him like he was a thug, or the second standby which involved everyone undressing him with their eyes. 

At least one or two of the seniors set always got in on that action as well. 

But today he wasn’t getting any of that. Instead everyone was looking at him almost…wistfully? Tenderly? Hopefully? Whatever it was exactly, it was for once a word that ended in ‘-ly’ that didn’t begin with ‘horny’. 

While he made sure to take note of all the moony gazes and sighs directed his way, overall he ignored them the way he had always ignored the spikes of arousal that he would have been surrounded by before today. It wasn’t like there was anything he could do about them after all. People could look at him. 

Though in all honesty these new looks made him feel more ill at ease than any sexual overtures had since Kate learned the error of her ways by way of a severed carotid artery. Like they wanted something from him that he wasn’t even sure he had the ability to give, forget about whether he wanted to or not. 

He put on a scowl in the hopes that it might be at least something of a deterrent as he scanned the menu trying to decide what to get for Stiles. Sometimes he liked some grotesque sugary confection, sometimes something more straightforward. He decided eventually to get a regular iced coffee for himself and an iced chai latte for Stiles; the summer heat was beginning to creep in as the day transitioned from early to mid morning, and Derek had a feeling that he would probably like the spiced tea. He gave his order to the barista with no problem, but he was thrown for a loop when his drinks actually came. 

Scribbled all over both of the cups in red marker were little hearts. Were it February Derek could have been persuaded that it was some kind of holiday promotion, but as it was in fact July and every other order he had seen filled before him lacked the extra embellishment he felt pretty sure that it was meant just for him. 

He arched his eyebrows at the blushing girl behind the counter, as well as her equally red in the face coworker peeking out behind her. 

“I…We, _we_ , just thought that umm…and we didn’t know which one was for you, but still we wanted to show you that we-” 

Derek thrust a twenty at them, cutting them off. “Keep the change,” he said, grapping the drinks and leaving before they could say anything more ridiculous. As he walked out he heard whispers and coos behind him. 

He would swear to god that he heard hearts actually _flutter_. 

He made sure the coffees were settled as securely as possible in the cup holders and laid heavy on the gas all the way to Stiles’ house. 

***** 

He parked at the curb and after noting that Stiles’ jeep was the only car in the drive, walked up to the front door of the Stilinski house. Stiles’ father had become somewhat more…accustomed to Derek’s presence, and after the supernatural reveal at times seemed to becoming almost fond of him. But while Derek did like the Sheriff, he still felt a little unease around him at times, whether it be from the multiple arrests, or the irrational feeling that he as an Alpha shouldn’t have of wanting to somehow impress him and gain his approval. 

Also he hadn’t gotten a third coffee, and couldn’t have very well given the Sheriff the drink he had gotten for himself as it was a quarter gone after getting stuck at the slowest red light in all of northern California. 

Derek rang the bell, keeping his eyes locked on a knot in the wood of the door, pointed ignoring the sound of Stiles’ neighbor across the street as he started softly reciting a sonnet from his rocking chair. Derek allowed himself some anxious tapping of his feet, hoping that Stiles would get his ass downstairs before the neighbor worked up the nerve to get off his porch and regal him with poetry up close. 

Thankfully he heard a mostly awake Stiles clomping down the stairs before that could happen. Soon enough the front door was opened and Derek was greeted by the sight of a still sleep rumpled Stiles, wearing boxers and a T-shirt, hair sticking up in a haphazard fashion, and fighting off a yawn. 

“Derek, what are you...?” Stiles started to ask before losing his yawning battle as Derek edged past him to enter the house, closing the door behind him. 

A quick glance behind him had shown the neighbor was still staring longingly and mangling Shakespeare. Any barrier between him and that was a good one. 

As he double checked to make sure the door was securely shut he tried not to think about how he was seeing so much more of Stiles than the younger man usually chose to show to the world, or how the heat that he generated, so much less than Derek who ran hot by virtue of being a werewolf, still made Derek feel warm in the best way, even as the temperature was approaching unpleasant outside. 

He shouldn’t be thinking those things. It wasn’t the time, not when there was something strange going on, as innocuous as it might seem for the time being, but also…he just shouldn’t be thinking those things. 

He knew where he stood, and that it was for the best that he stayed there. Even if he would hear Stiles’ heart rate pick up in a way that definitely didn’t indicate fear, hadn’t in a long time when Derek came round… 

Derek was used to people wanting to fuck him. 

He allowed himself the brief indulgence of breathing in Stiles’ scent before holding the chai latte out to Stiles, determined to remain focused on the matter at hand. 

“I think I may need your help with something,” Derek said bluntly. Stiles, still a little bleary eyed looked between Derek and the drink before sighing, taking the drink and stepping back to gesture Derek over to the couch. Derek sat stiffly as Stiles absentmindedly scratched his stomach with his free hand, causing the T-Shirt to rise slightly exposing a small sliver of skin before sitting down himself. Derek temporarily lost what he was about to say. 

“So what is it?” Stiles asked, breaking the silence before taking a sip. “Mmm. Not that this isn’t tasty and refreshing, but I doubt the help you need is burning off a coffee shop gift card. But man, if that could be our problem for once…we’d be swimming in scones, and not in an evil pastry way.” 

“How do you even get evil scones?” Derek asked, coming back to himself from his earlier distraction. 

“I may have just woken up from a dream where eating an apple pastry sent people to hell. It was unnerving, but I gotta say I appreciated it for the lack of potential evisceration,” Stiles said with another drink of the chai. “So anyway, what’s the problem? And is there a reason you seemed to be freaked out by Mr. Cuddy across the street? Because I’m pretty sure I’d have noticed if he was suddenly evil. Dude is such a nice guy he’ll buy extra Girl Scout cookies and donate them to Beacon Elementary’s after school program.” 

And now he was pitching poetry at the back of Derek’s head from across the street. 

“I think someone, or something, put a spell on me,” Derek said, getting right to it. 

Stiles paused with his drink partway to his lips before setting it down on the coffee table and leaning in closer to Derek to look closer at him. Derek made a point of keeping his breathing even under Stiles’ scrutiny. 

“What type of spell? How is it affecting you? And what do you mean someone or _something_? If anyone should be to tell what’s human and what’s not it should be you, what with your extra special wolfy senses and all that.” 

“There are lots of things that can mask a scent, especially if you don’t know you should be looking for anything. Peppermint and anise can block out any other scents easily, and even an extra strong dose of perfume or cologne can be an effective cover if you don’t think to search for anything more,” Derek said, not exactly pleased that Stiles had chosen to latch on to his failure to detect a threat instead of focusing on the spell itself. Not that the results of such weren’t awkward, but at least they were could be discussed without having to mention that he let his guard down just to get off. 

He was not going to think about whether Stiles knowing about his foolishness in letting himself get…lord, _ensorcelled_ or his extracurricular activities would bother him more, but like it or not he knew he was going to be confronted with Stiles’ reactions on both points. 

“And what was ‘super vigilant Alpha Derek Hale’ doing that you would actually let your focus go enough to miss something like that? Hell, I’m pretty sure you give _me_ an olfactory once over every time we meet up, and you’ve known me for like almost two years now.” 

“It’s really not that important,” Derek said, in a vain attempt to avoid both having to answer why he missed the scent until it was too late, and that his reasons for smelling Stiles had nothing to do with trying to detect a threat. 

“Well yeah, it might be. Where you were and what you were doing can help us figure out who put the spell on you, and that in conjuncture with the effects of the spell, can help us learn how to break it. So I don’t care if you were crying your eyes out at yet another trite and emotionally manipulative Nicholas Sparks movie or something equally embarrassing, you need to get over it and spill,” Stiles said, reasoned and triumphant. 

Derek decided quick and blunt was his only option at this point. “I was at a bar over in Denville so I could have anonymous sex with a stranger. **B** ut apparently I had already had sex with him before I moved back from New York and he was upset when I didn’t remember him.” Derek closed his eyes to better visualize what had happened the night before, which had the added bonus of preventing himself from staring at Stiles’ mouth as it gaped or the two spots of color that had blossomed high on his cheeks. “When I first saw him I didn’t notice anything really about him. Places like that always reek of sex and sweat and bodies covered in artificial odors anyway. He smelled overpoweringly of cologne or aftershave, but he came right up to me and…initiated, and I didn’t see any reason to wait around for anyone else.” 

“Geeze, you make it sound so romantic,” Stiles quipped, though his voice sounded tighter than usual. Derek opened his eyes and sighed. 

“I wasn’t there for romance. I was there to get off with someone instead of just my hand and then hopefully never see them again. It’s more of an exchange of services than anything else.” 

“You really have a knack for making sex sound decidedly unsexy. And not to sound judgmental about your life choices, cause really, not like I have much experience in that area to have anything solid to base my non judgmental judgment on, but you don’t even sound like you _like_ doing it all that much, even before this guy threw some bad juju at you,” Stiles said sounding…it was difficult to differentiate all the notes in his voice; sadness, embarrassment, concern…and even more difficult to divvy up which sentiment went to which statement. 

“Look, as far as it’s a concern to you about how much I enjoy myself, it isn’t. Can I finish telling you what happened?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry, go on.” 

“The guy, or whatever he was exactly, somehow followed me to a gas station without a car, did something that prevented me from moving, talked about love and romance and how I had made him feel for a while, lost his face-” 

“Excuse me, back that up. Lost his face?” 

“It kind of…blurred out. He had said something earlier about using a glamour.” 

“Ok, that is actually really good to know. Then what happened?” Stiles finished off what was left of his chai with a giant swig and set the empty cup back on the table, next too Derek’s half empty abandoned and sweating drink, before returning his full attention to Derek. 

“Then he said something about I’d have what I lacked in abundance unless I found it without his help or something along those lines. And then I passed out until morning.” 

“Alright, so what _are_ the effects of the spell? You’ve kinda neglected to give me any of the specifics of it.” 

“It…” Derek wondered how to phrase what he had seen so far before deciding that a return to bluntness was the way to go. “It’s making people fall in love with me.” 

Stiles stared at him for a moment like he had grown a second head before bursting out into laughter. 

“Dude! Of course people fall in love with you! How is this even any different from the norm?” 

“People fall in _lust_ with me. Not love.” 

“Man, don’t shortchange yourself…I mean you’re-” Derek cut him off, refusing to listen to what could only be pity as Stiles tried to reassure him. 

“I’m not shortchanging myself, I’m stating a fact. Before today strangers wanted to see me naked, now it’s like they want to hold my hand. And people who’ve never even looked at me like _that_ before are now acting like lovesick teenagers.” 

Derek told Stiles about the parents and Isaac and the coffee shop and his neighbor. And while Stiles couldn’t keep back his chuckles at the idea of Isaac awkwardly asking Derek out for a romantic stroll after feeding him up, or jokingly wishing that Scott was back from visiting his cousins so Stiles could see him dote on Derek, the contemplative look on his face remained and deepened through Derek’s recounting. 

“So it sounds like it is some sort of love spell, if more than a little bit like someone’s idea of love that was solidified in middle school,” Stiles mused, gnawing slightly on his lower lip. Derek turned away. 

“Something about the guy makes me seriously doubt he went through the public school system.” 

“Well, from what you told me the dude sounds like he might be one of the fae. Who according to a lot of what I’ve read, aren’t all that far away from middle schoolers in terms of temperament and emotional stability.” 

“You are seriously saying a fairy put a spell on me?” 

“Hey, glamour, capricious nature, unless you can think of something better I’m running with it,” Stiles said flopping back against the couch, the legs of his boxers riding up slightly with the movement, a self satisfied smirk gracing his face. 

“So what do we do?” Derek asked keeping his eyes up high. 

Stiles tapped his fingers against the armrest in an irregular rhythm before sitting up straight again. “I think I need to see this spell in action before we can start planning.” 

“Meaning?” 

“Meaning we are going out on the town to gather a better scientific sample my lupine friend. Gimme a minute to make myself decent and then let’s kick it,” Stiles said as he bounced up and bounded up the stairs. 

“Great,” Derek said, watching Stiles leave, thinking that the Stilinski living room felt a lot larger and empty than it rightfully should. 

***** 

“Ok, I can see how this could get old pretty quick,” said Stiles as they walked through downtown Beacon Hills in order to ‘gather a larger sample size’. Though in all honesty Derek had initially been a little discouraged at Stiles’ lack of scientific objectivity at first, as he was seemingly unable to completely hold back his laughter at Derek’s situation. But after the first half hour in which close to two dozen people between the ages of twelve and ninety six came up to Derek and Stiles, obviously under the influence of the spell, Stiles’ amusement quickly petered out. In order those bold enough to approach them were; seven people who blushed and stammered when they said good morning to Derek, six who gave him flowers plucked from the ‘Beautify Beacon Hills’ planters scattered around the downtown area, five who gave him hastily written love notes on napkins, a page torn out of their toddler’s coloring book, and one from a traffic cop written on the contents of his ticket book. Then there were the three who tried to serenade Derek in the street with some obviously self composed love ballads, and three more who ran up and tried to kiss Derek, though in a relatively chaste manner, lips closed and puckered instead of open and questing like most of the face to face contact that Derek had experience with. And that was to say nothing at all of the people who seemed content to gaze at him moony eyed from afar. 

And all of them, down to the sweet faced grandmother with the walker, were shooting Stiles the dirtiest looks imaginable. 

“I mean I’ll admit, it sounded pretty funny at first, but this is sort of beyond awkward. It’s like a romantic comedy for people who think Meg Ryan movies are filled with too much subtlety, but with a bonus slightly menacing undertone,” Stiles said. 

“These people seem to be a lot more…forward that earlier today,” Derek said, feeling uneasy with all the eyes on him as he never had before. 

“Hmm…there is the possibility that the spell could be escalating in intensity. I mean, it’s not like a spell from a book that’s cast with a ritual, those tend to be a bit more…fixed I guess would be a way to describe it? But as we’ve seen nothing to contradict the hypothesis that this was slammed on you by a fae, this is magic worked by something that is kinda magic itself, not just a practitioner. I guess that could affect how it manifests.” 

“You did not get all of that off the internet.” 

“Nah, Deaton’s been letting me read through his library while Scott’s on shift. It’s educational with some low key bro time! Total win-win,” Stiles said with a smile. 

“So do you have a plan about how to fix this yet?” Derek asked, a slight growl creeping into his voice as a balding man in a suit approached them with a massive bouquet, gazing at Derek with adoration before sneering in Stiles’ direction. Stiles had remained oblivious to most of the glares leveled at him as he had been mainly focused on everyone’s reactions to Derek, but this one was so malevolent and prolonged that he couldn’t miss it. He looked to Derek with confusion while the man just stood there, holding out the bouquet, glaring at Stiles, and refusing to move until Derek snatched it out of his hand. It was only then that the man moved aside, a dreamy smile on his face. 

Stiles looked slightly taken aback at the man’s reaction to him, but shook it off quickly in favor of examining the bouquet currently being crushed by Derek’s less than gentle grip. 

“Derek, based on the flowers in this thing, plus the sheer amount of them, this thing must have cost close to two hundred dollars. Either this was meant as a gift for someone else and once he saw you the spell made him give them to you, or he saw you earlier, went to the florist, and commissioned a rush job. But the point is _two hundred dollars._ Even at my most enamored with Lydia before I realized that it was just not to be, I never put down more than thirty down on flowers. True I never had all that much disposal income and I may have made some other ill advised purchases, but those were all returnable with receipt. This is…engagement flowers, this is ‘the only way I can express how I feel is by cutting down nature and wrapping it in colored saran wrap and ribbon’ flowers.” 

“How lovely,” Derek said dryly, chucking them into a garbage can. “Any thoughts on how I can avoid getting another one of those?” 

“Not really,” Stiles admitted with a sigh. “What exactly was said when the spell was cast again? As precise as you can remember.” 

“As best as I can remember the first part was, ‘what you lacked you will now have in abundance’. And the second part was something about how if I could find it true without his generosity then amends would be made. I mean he said other things but those were the only ones that _felt_ like magic. Like there was some kind of force behind them,” Derek said, words failing to completely convey the surreal and powerless feeling he felt as the creature had spoken. 

“Ok…and so what other non spell things did he say? Even if they weren’t technically him working his magic yet, they could inform more of what his intent was when he put the whammy on you. Whoa!” Stiles asked before hastily taking a step back as a pair who Derek would have pegged mother and daughter launched themselves at Derek, peppering every part of him that they could reach with quick kisses, cooing that they loved him more than anyone else in the world. He pushed them off, years of practice in holding back his strength around humans the only thing that prevented him from launching the two of them into the air. 

“Though maybe we should talk about it while we go back to your car. As we quickly, quickly walk back to your car,” Stiles said, his eyes wide and darting around to the many Derek admirers that seemed to be multiplying at an unsettling rate, staring at the pair, their looks vacillating from adoration when they looked at one, and utter contempt and loathing at the other. Derek felt his hackles rise at the sheer amount of malice that was being projected at Stiles, so much that it was almost tangible. 

“Maybe we should just focus on getting back to the car for now and talk more when we’re someplace where I don’t have to worry about either of us having to fight someone off for very different reasons,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles’ arm and turning them both around back in the direction of where he had parked the Camaro. He picked up the pace as he heard the crowd moving and coming together behind them, urging Stiles on while making sure to keep himself positioned between them and Stiles. Finally the Camaro came into view. He and Stiles kept up their brisk walk before breaking into a run once they were a few yards away, the murmurings of both treacly sentiments and anger growing louder behind them. 

Derek had the bad habit of never bothering to lock his car doors. He was very thankful for that habit now as Stiles simply yanked open the driver’s side door and crawled over to the passenger’s seat instead of wasting precious seconds circling around. 

As soon as Derek slammed closed the door behind him the small hand of a fourteen year old girl was plastered against it, her fingers adorned with cracked glittery nail polish and half a stores worth of costume jewelry. In the palm of her hand she had drawn a heart, with the words ‘I love you’ written within. 

“Derek, we gotta go now before more get here, how will we get out without hurting any of them if they try and surround the car-” 

“I’m going, I’m going. Don’t worry, I won’t hurt anyone,” Derek said through a teeth clenched in concentration as he quickly but carefully started to pull out. There were currently only a few people scattered around the car, and luckily it seemed that most of them had enough of a self preservation instinct left not to purposely throw themselves in the path of the car as it sped away. 

The same could not be said of at least one of Derek’s Beta’s. 

They were closer to the loft than Stiles’ house, so after ensuring that they didn’t currently have to deal with something so ridiculous as Derek’s overzealous suitors chasing after them on foot, Derek turned down the street for his home, figuring that the quicker they could find some place to hole up and gather their thoughts on how to end this whole mess the better. 

He had forgotten about Isaac. Isaac who was sitting outside the front door, scenting the air and looking heartbroken until he whipped his head in the direction of Derek and Stiles’ approach, his face lighting up before shifting once more to anger and betrayal as he wolfed out and started running toward the car. Derek swerved to the side and braked to avoid hitting him, but instead Isaac leapt up and landed on the hood of the Camaro. 

“Derek, what are you doing with him?!” shouted Isaac, his voice partially muffled through the windshield. “He doesn’t love you like I do! He doesn’t care like we do, like I do! HE DOESN’T LOVE YOU _LIKE! I! DO_!” he yelled out, lacing his fingers together and slamming his interlocked fists down on the windshield with his last three words, creating a spider web of cracks in the safety glass before breaking through on the third hit. 

Derek wasn’t about to wait to find out what Isaac was going to do next, whether it be kiss him or claw at Stiles. Something told him that being the Alpha might not be enough to cut through in this situation when it was more than just the wolf out of control like before, and he couldn’t risk Stiles’ safety on that chance. 

Derek stepped off the break and on the gas, speeding forward to throw Isaac off balance before abruptly shifting into reverse to throw him off completely and into a mailbox. The blue metal crumpled under the force of Isaac’s body, letters spilling out on top of his stunned form. 

Derek sped off, no direction in mind, just trying to put as much distance between them and anyone else in existence before something else happened. 

Stiles looked shell-shocked, almost to a surprising degree considering the unfortunate reality that he had been subjected to much greater degrees of both violence and danger within the past two years. His smell had the sour overlay of fear, but it was tinged with something else that would have been difficult to pinpoint in a controlled situation, forget about now when Derek’s adrenalin was surging through his body. Stiles glanced over at Derek, opened his mouth as if to say something but stopping himself. He grimaced, before finding his voice again. 

“Oh man, even knowing he’s gonna be ok and the United States Postal Service will in all likelihood remain forever ignorant of what the hell happened to their property, no part of that was fun to see,” Stiles said, his shock giving way to rapid breaths and heartbeat. “And while I can’t speak for the rest of Beacon Hills, I am relatively confident that my friendship with non love spell afflicted Isaac has grown to the stage where he only thinks about killing me when I school him in Mario Cart, so I think we can safely say that the intensity of the spell escalating is not just a possibility, but a fact.” Derek resisted the urge to reach out and touch Stiles in a reassuring manner, instead keeping his hands on the wheel as Stiles took a steadying breath. “So any ideas where we can go until we fix this? I don’t think my house would stand up to a particularly determined mob that that wants in, let alone one that definitely includes at the very least one member of your pack.” 

At the word ‘pack’ the best hiding place available flashed through Derek’s head. “My family’s house,” he said, making the turn to head into the woods. “There are still the tunnels and cells underneath. They’ll be as secure as anything within fifty miles.” 

“Sounds like a plan,” Stiles said with a watery but still warm smile. 

Discussion tabled for now, Derek drove as quickly as safety allowed, keeping an eye out for any danger along the way. 

***** 

Only once they were safely inside, the doors barred on their side did Stiles return to his earlier line of questioning. 

“So, before the wooing took a turn for ‘the no longer funny, now terrifying’, you were going to try and remember more of what whatever messed with you said that didn’t technically feel like the actual spell. Problem solving helps fend off the urge to panic .And then after we got that squared away, let’s see if we can’t figure out why everyone wants to kill _me._ They’re not trying to rip each other’s throats,” Stiles said with forced flippancy, his back sliding down against the now secure door until he was seated, feet on the floor but knees splayed, unconcerned about the dust and grime on the floor. “What makes me so damn special?” 

Derek remained standing, feeling awkward and unsettled as hell as he watched Stiles reach up and pick a pebble size piece of safety glass out of his hair. It could have been so much worse…“He said he remembered me. That I made him feel for a while. He was unhappy with me for that. And that it must be awful for me.” Derek paused, the painful truth and accompanying loneliness of the statement hitting him in a way that it hadn’t the night before. Maybe because instead of a creature who didn’t matter to Derek beyond the havoc he caused saying it to Derek, it was Derek having to admit it. 

“What was?” Stiles asked, the concern in his voice making Derek want to choke, knowing that that was the most it could ever be. Because he knew what the truth was. 

“That no one loves me. No one will ever love me.” 

“What? Derek, Derek that’s not true-” 

“It is.” 

“Derek, you can’t believe that…seriously, you are so worth-” 

“It’s what it is,” Derek ground out bitterly. “And that’s why some fae or fairy or whatever it’s called decided that the best way to punish me for being the first time it managed to confuse lust for anything more was to throw everyone on the planet in my face proving that it’s the only way that anyone would ever-” 

“You think that’s love really is? Everyone in town throwing flowers at you?” Stiles asked, his tone bewildered. 

“I know it’s not real Stiles.” 

“No, not just because of the spell, I mean…” Stiles pulled his knees into his chest, as if he wanted a barrier between his chest and Derek. 

“What’s out there isn’t love. It’s barely a facsimile of it, I don’t care what whatever cursed you said, it’s not. It’s a teenager’s idea of love gone crazypants, a crush mixed with obsession and madness, but it’s not… love can be selfish, I’ve had some familiarity with the feeling, believe me. Of course love is selfish sometimes, how could it not be when you want the one you love to love you back, to look at you like you matter, like you’re worth- but real love can’t only be selfish. Even with the selfish moments trying to get them to-that’s not all it can be, if it matters. Ultimately you have to actually care about them, and help them when they need you, and want to make them happy, even if they’ll nev-never feel the same way. And sometimes you move on and become friends, and sometimes…” Stiles’ breath hitched as he finished talking, dropping his chin to his chest as if he couldn’t stand to look at anything past his knees. 

It was obvious that Stiles was speaking from experience. But it was also, while maybe not quite as obvious, still apparent to someone who paid attention to Stiles that he wasn’t just talking about his past feelings for Lydia. He was talking about his feelings for someone now. 

And there was something else that he said, giving Derek a sudden moment of clarity on at least part of what had been happening on this god awful day. 

“What’s out there,” Derek repeated hollowly, as he looked at Stiles trying to shrink himself down before Derek’s gaze. 

“Out there Isaac, my own Beta is caught up in this, our bond as pack superseded by the spell. That bond should have protected him from any sort of magic that would try to twist it.” 

“Yeah, well, fairy magic, who even know,” said Stiles, head still down. 

“Every single person we’ve come across today has been affected by the spell, even those who by all rights shouldn’t have been.” 

“Yeah, it’s been a trip.” 

“Except you.” Stiles’ head shot up. “Stiles, the only person who hasn’t been acting like pure uncut Valentine’s Day has been injected into their veins is you. Why haven’t you been affected?” 

“I-” 

“None of the people under the spell cares about what another is doing, whether it’s trying to hold my hand, or kissing me, or showering me with gifts. But you could just be standing two feet away from me, not even touching and they were ready to- it’s because they know that you’re not under the spell, that you aren’t part of the same love struck magic hive mind,” Derek said, his hope that his reasoning was correct a growing tightness in his chest. “And if you weren’t one of them, you were a threat to them. To the spell.” 

Stiles stared up at Derek, his whiskey eyes wide and fearful. Derek couldn’t help but notice how brightly they always shone, even in a dark and dingy bolt hole underground, the only light source in the room the one bare incandescent light bulb hanging from the ceiling. 

Derek stepped cautiously towards Stiles, hyper aware of both his own movements and Stiles’ eyes on him. He didn’t stop in front of Stiles, instead stepping to the side and turning around before mimicking Stiles’ slide down the door from earlier so that they were sitting side by side. 

“Stiles, do you…?” Derek couldn’t bring himself to properly finish asking the question, terrified that the answer would be no. Not because he was pretty sure that he knew what the out for the spell was now, but because… 

Because despite everything he had let himself fall in love. And after having fought against even the possibility of it for so long, he wasn’t sure his heart could take it as damaged as it already was. 

“You could have anyone. You _do_ have everyone, that’s why we’re having so much fun right now,” Stiles said, not looking over at Derek. 

“You said before that it sounded like I didn’t even like it. I don’t. I don’t like it, I never really did even from the start, years before this. Other people might like doing it that way, obviously or I wouldn’t have had anyone…but I was never meant for it. It was just the only thing I could allow myself. It was better than nothing. It was better than never touching anyone again, than admitting that I was always going to be…” Derek sighed, letting his knees open slightly more so that the one closest to Stiles’ bumped up against his own drawn up legs. “And I know what I’m good for. I know what people want from me. And it’s never been for my mind, or my personality. It’s never been handholding or spending time together that doesn’t end with me naked in five minutes and then leaving in forty. No one-” 

“You’re wrong,” Stiles interrupted, uncurling himself slightly and turning his head to face Derek, practically radiating with nerves. “Not that people don’t want to have sex with you, because you are almost painfully good looking by any criteria, and anyone who has a passing interest in sex is going to be into that, but that’s not the only-that’s not all you are. I mean yeah, your personality takes some getting used to, and some of your plans may have been less than stellar but…you have a sense of humor once you relax, so the times you actually deign to come out the movies with us you help me provide _excellent_ MST3K commentary. And you care and look out for people even if you don’t always know how to show it in the best way, but you try, you’re always trying, which makes you noble and brave. And even if you weren’t all those things, you’re not unworthy of being loved.” 

Derek looked at Stiles, at the openness and conviction on his face, though it was still marred by apprehension. Derek gave up on giving himself excuses and repositioned himself so he could lean over and get a better angle, so that for the first time in a long time what he was about to do next would mean something. 

The kiss was soft, and despite his best efforts, still a little hesitant. 

But it was reciprocated. 

Derek pulled back, just an inch or so that they no longer touched but were breathing the same air. He kept his eyes closed, the scent of Stiles, with still a hint of chai from earlier flooding his nostrils, the sound of his breaths in his ears. 

“I love you. I tried not to, I lied to myself because I didn’t believe anyone could love me back, and it was better to just be a body that didn’t care.” Stiles’ breath had halted as soon as Derek started to speak, his heart hammering in his chest. Derek pulled back further and opened his eyes. “Stiles, do you love me?” 

Stiles took a deep breath, before leaning toward Derek to return the earlier kiss. 

“Yeah,” Stiles said, quietly but full of certainty. “Yeah, I am. For a while, and for all the reasons I listed before and a whole mess more.” 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Derek asked, reaching his arm out to pull Stiles’ closer so that their sides were touching, the warmth and most basic contact making Derek feel more at ease than he could remember being in a long, long, time. 

“I’m used to being on the wrong side of ‘unrequited love with someone who by rights normally wouldn’t have anything to do with me’. And in retrospect I know I was skirting the edge of creepy with Lydia at one point, and between not wanting to make that mistake again and the fact that I didn’t think you’d exactly appreciate some kid you only barely started to more than tolerate pining after you…there didn’t seem much point,” Stiles said, leaning more into Derek’s touch. 

“I’ve more than tolerated you for longer than you think. A lot longer. I just convinced myself that it wasn’t the fair thing to do to you, because I was...I couldn’t help it. Even thinking I didn’t deserve you I couldn’t help but fall in love with you.” 

“So I am so completely irresistible that I managed to make a crack in your wall of psychological issues? Not that we don’t still have a truckload more to work through, but still, I am _awesome_ ,” Stiles said gleefully, his body language shifting back to its habitual looseness instead of its earlier ill suited stiffness. 

“To me you are,” Derek said, repositioning himself once more so he could kiss the breath from Stiles’ lungs once again. 

Derek felt his body flood with a similar sensation as when he had been cursed, but this time it was as if something was being lifted from him. 

“So, I think the spell might be broken now,” Derek said once he was finally able to wrench himself away from Stiles’ lips. Stiles leaned his head back against the door, a contemplative look on his face. 

“One the one hand, I am surprisingly comfortable here, and while I believe you, I am still not looking forward to having to talk to Isaac any time soon. Or anyone else we may have run into today. Though on the other hand we can probably assume that we won’t have to worry too much about the general populace and their unique ability to rationalize every supernatural occurrence that happens, and the more I think about it, your presence aside this place is getting a lot less comfy and a lot more creepy.” Stiles hoisted himself up, using Derek’s shoulder for balance. Once he was standing he extended his hand to Derek. “Let’s get going.” 

***** 

They drove back to Stiles’ house, and though he knew it was probably a little cowardly, Derek wasn’t quite up to seeing Isaac yet either. He knew through the Pack bond that he was healed and healthy, and that was all that mattered for now. They could deal with the sure to be unbearable awkwardness later. Maybe if he was lucky it would have softened into ‘kind of amusing awkwardness’, by the time they actually talked. 

He could only feel grateful as he drove how many people he _hadn’t_ run into today, as Stiles, settling into their post ‘confessions of love’ interactions with the remarkable ease and adaptability he possessed, was hypothesizing how it would have gone meeting more people in their social circle such as it was. 

“Imagine if we had run into Boyd and Erica. For some reason I can see them being way more scary than Isaac was, but I think that’s partially because I know for a fact that Erica would not be adverse to underhanded measures. Ooh, or Scott! He would have been soooo sincere and would _never_ have lived it down. Man, I could have gotten some awesome camera footage of that. Or if you had run into Chris Argent, that would have been the most uncomfortable thing _ever._ Or god, _Coach Finstock._ He’s crazy on a good day, he probably would have gotten a quickie tattoo of your face, on his face, or cut off one of his testicles to give you or something suitably insane like that-” 

“Or we could have run into your dad,” Derek observed as he pulled up in front of Stiles’ house, relieved to see that while Mr. Cuddy was out on the porch, either still or again, he was occupied reading a reading a book on the birds of the Pacific Northwest, sparing only slightly confused glance up at the them and the state of the Camaro before returning to his book with a small shake of the head. Derek smiled, pleased at order restored, before returning his attention to a sputtering Stiles. 

“No, ok, no. No no no no no no no. You do not even joke about that,” Stiles ordered as both he and Derek exited the car and walked to the front door. “That is not in the realm of ok things to joke about, it’s just not,” he continued as he opened the front door and they both went inside. “Oh my god, what if he _had_ been here when you first came by? What if he hadn’t decided to take a long weekend to go fishing? What if I had had to watch my dad awkwardly trying to woo you?” Stiles shook his head viciously as if to force the image out physically. “I am never going to make fun of how he looks in his fishing getup ever again.” 

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate the respite even without knowing the cause,” Derek said letting himself fall down to the couch almost exactly where he had sat a few hours before, tense and asking for help with the surety of knowledge in the back of his mind that no one, especially not Stiles, would ever love him. 

It had been an eventful couple of hours. 

Stiles copied Derek and plopped onto the couch with a small bounce and a yawn, though instead of taking up his earlier position at the far end keeping a respectful difference between himself and Derek, he put his arms around and curled into Derek, a more comfortable variation of their partial embrace from the cell. 

“So what do we do now? This was all kind of only theoretical for me up until this point and I don’t want to fuck this up. And I know it’s hard to tell with me sometimes, but I was not kidding about us trying to work through some of your…” Stiles waved his hand not wrapped around Derek vaguely in the air before settling it on Derek’s chest and leaning in to give Derek a short but tender kiss. “You deserve to be loved.” 

“We’ll work on things,” Derek said, still not able to fully believe Stiles’ words even now, but feeling for the first time he could be convinced. 

“Though,” he started hesitantly, “I want you to know, that while I do want to have sex with you, I-” 

Stiles laughed as he worked on shifting both of their positions until they were almost laying down, Stiles on top of Derek. “Derrie-” 

“That is _not_ going to be your nickname for me.” 

“Just testing the waters,” Stiles said, his smirk evident even if Derek couldn’t see his face. “But anyway, what I was going to say was that we don’t have to have sex tonight, or tomorrow, or this week, or whenever. I mean, as we are both sexual beings I expect it to be in the pipeline for _sometime_ before I’m collecting Social Security…hopefully way, _way_ before that, but if you feel you need to get your head straight before we make the beast with two backs, I get it. I will probably end up indulging in some more solo action now that I have some additional key details about you to add to my spank bank, but hey, I’d be doing some of that anyway even before I knew what your stubble feels like.” 

“It won’t be too long,” Derek promised, the image of Stiles by himself something that Derek knew that he would indulge in at least a few times. “I just-” 

“Even true love can be selfish, but not at the expense of your beloved’s happiness,” Stiles said, his voice sleepy and slightly muffled from where his face lay on Derek’s chest. “I can wait awhile.” 

“Beloved?” Derek asked, his tone lightly teasing but his heart bursting with joy. 

“Shut up,” Stiles commanded right be he lost his battle to sleep. 

Derek, finally feeling all of the exhaustion from a ridiculous day catch up with him, soon followed after. 

***** 

He woke up a few hours later, Stiles still on top of him, a weight that should have been overly warm and cumbersome a welcome comfort. 

What was not quite as comforting was the sight of the Sheriff standing above him, wearing an admittedly goofy looking fishing getup and an inquiring look that Derek could tell could very easily shift into something far less benign. 

“Your car is looking a little worse for wear out there Derek. And what, may I ask, is going in here?” He asked evenly. Derek tried to formulate a response, but before he could even open his mouth Stiles stirred on top of him before twisting partially so that he was more or less sitting up and facing his father. 

“Things were a little wackadoo in town today, so you picked the right time to go on a fishing trip. Really, really excellent timing. I _cannot_ stress how much I appreciate your sense of timing,” Stiles said. 

“And I really appreciate how you still think you can get away with trying to obfuscate the question I really want answered with that statement. Is there a new development I should be aware of here?” 

Stiles sat up straighter, up off of Derek, though one of his hands reached out and found one of Derek’s own to hold. 

“I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine,” Stiles said plainly, squeezing Derek’s hand. 

Stiles’ father raised his eyebrows at the two of them. “The fact that you two are together now is actually a pretty far ways away from unexpected, though your quoting of poetry is a little bit of a surprise.” He shrugged his shoulders and started back to the kitchen, calling out before he disappeared through the doorway, “I caught some trout. Derek, you’re going to stay for dinner, and you’re going to learn how to clean and gut a fish if you don’t already know how to. No eating anything whole in two gulps in this household.” 

“Just because I’m a werewolf doesn’t mean I don’t have table manners,” Derek groused, as he lifted himself up into a sitting position, careful not to let go of Stiles’ hand, though making sure to keep his voice too quiet for any human ears other than Stiles’ to hear. 

“He’s just messing with you. He probably thinks your table manners are better than mine,” Stiles said dismissively. 

“The bar is set low,” Derek observed. He looked down at their still linked together hands. “I get poetry?” 

“You get poetry,” Stiles confirmed, though his cheeks flushed as if it had just sunk in how sappy it all seemed. Derek lifted up their joined hands to place a kiss on Stiles’ knuckles, to try and convey as best he could though words continued to fail him that he was surprisingly alright with sap and schmaltz, and that after all of the forced romance of the day, all of the doubts that still clouded his mind, the truth of Stiles’ statement shone out like a star created to illuminate Derek’s world. 

“I like it. Thank you. Beloved.” 

“Oh shut it,” Stiles laughed, coming in to steal one kiss after another from Derek until his father called out for them to come and help him in the kitchen. Stiles reluctantly stopped and rose from the couch, pulling Derek up with him and going into the kitchen, keeping their hands clasped. 

Derek followed without any resistance, with each passing second becoming more and more used to the idea of someone wanting to love him. 

**Author's Note:**

> So originally I intended this to be a bit lighter (not that this was anything even approaching grim!dark!, especially with the pure unadulterated sap at the end, but still), as the love spell trope is frequently a fun place to play around and get ridiculous. But as I brainstormed a number of tumblr conversations I had seen/taken part in came back to my mind about how really Derek has issues upon issues regarding (probably) his sexuality and (definitely) his self worth, and that thought sort of took over the potential crackiness of seeing everyone in the cast try and serenade Derek.
> 
> I do hope that those who have more knowledge than I in this area think I did at least an adequate, if perhaps a little easily resolved, job in portraying this aspect.
> 
> And the poetry Stiles is quoting, 'I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine' is from The Song of Solomon. Because gosh darn it, if Stiles is going to speak poetry to Derek, it's going to be poetry that supports my desire for him to be Jewish. :)
> 
> And the title is from the song 'All to Pieces' from the musical Violet. More people should know this show.


End file.
